


The False Heir

by espark



Series: Distract and Motivate [1]
Category: The Riyria Revelations - Michael J. Sullivan
Genre: Action/Adventure, Consensual, Friends With Benefits, Heist, M/M, Male Slash, POV First Person, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 21:45:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8550259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espark/pseuds/espark
Summary: A Riyria heist story with a plot inspired by The Sting (1973). This takes place about 6 months after The Crown Tower, after Gwen saves them and before they return to Medford and set up shop at the Rose and the Thorn. POV alternates between Hadrian and Royce.
“Working, traveling, and living with Royce for the last few months had been many things - frustrating, exciting, and tiring, but overall, it was satisfying. He was different from anyone I’d ever met. A small man, he was quick, agile, ruthless and clever. ... Arcadius had been right - we were good together - in a fight, in a heist, and in the sack.”





	1. Introductions: from Hadrian’s point of view

Royce caught me smiling at him and shot me a hard look. I answered his scowl with a breezy thought, “Did you see that chicken back there in the road? The feathers on its head were sticking straight up.” 

I knew that making absurd observations drove Royce crazy. Part of me didn’t care what he thought; I liked sharing my musings and he would just have to put up with it. Another part of me liked driving him crazy. I continued, “That hen looked like she was wearing one of those fancy hats, you know, like the ones the the women in Chadwick are wearing, with the feathers.” 

Royce answered by pulling up his hood.

It was a lovely summer morning as Royce and I walked into the sleepy town of Bramhurst. There were few people on the dirt streets surrounded by grubby houses and small shops. We’d been working together since winter. As a team, we’d had some small successes, but now we were running low on funds. Royce had said we’d have to get some coin soon, even if it meant simple snatch and grab jobs. I wasn’t too worried about money, yet. I trusted we’d be alright. After years of wandering, self-doubt and uncertainty about what to do with my life, I finally felt I belonged. I belonged in a partnership with Royce.

Working, traveling, and living with Royce for the last few months had been many things - frustrating, exciting, and tiring, but overall, it was satisfying. He was different from anyone I’d ever met, a small man, he was quick, agile, ruthless and clever. The last week on meager rations had been tough, but I’d been through worse working as a mercenary. We’d been camping in the woods most nights with only dried meat, stale bread and scavenged berries for meals. But there were other benefits to being partners with Royce. Arcadius had been right - we were good together - in a fight, in a heist, and in the sack. 

I could still taste Royce in my mouth. That distinct sour taste would take hours to fade. Not that I minded, quite the opposite. Thinking about Royce, remembering his hands on me, recalling the way he looked up at me with a fierce sensuality, kept the smile on my face.

We turned a corner onto a smaller dirt lane bordered by modest houses. I continued my deliberately banal train of thought, “I wonder if women will start putting chicken feathers in their hats. They just might. I mean, women put all manner of strange decorations on their heads. One time, I saw a woman wearing a hat with half a dozen large orange butterflies glued on. Can you imagine? She was …”

I was interrupted by a woman’s shout, “Help, Help me!” 

A thin man sprinted towards us, a young woman on the ground behind him. “He took my purse,” she cried, “Help me please!”

Knowing exactly what Royce was going to do, I turned my attention to the woman. I rushed to her side and knelt down to help her up. “What happened?” I asked, concerned, ”Are you hurt?”

The young woman was pretty, with dark brown hair and freckles. She winced, “My leg, it hurts.” As I put my arms out to steady her, she grabbed me roughly, tried to pull herself up, then sank back down to the ground with a yelp of pain. “I think it's broken.” She wrapped her arms about her and began to cry. 

My heart sank in pity, “It’ll be alright, Miss. We’ll help you. Won’t we Royce?” I turned to see that Royce had stopped the thief, as I knew he would. 

The man was squirming in pain, Alverstone pinning his arm to the wall. Royce extracted his dagger, twisted the thief’s injured arm behind his back and forced the slim man to walk forward. I still marveled at how Royce and I knew just what the other was going to do. It was uncanny. The way we anticipated each other and synchronize our actions felt intimate and natural.

The woman looked surprised and alarmed as Royce brought the thief over to us. “Oh, you caught him .... thanks.” Although she didn’t sound like she meant it.

From beneath his hood, Royce spoke sternly to the woman on the ground, “Give my friend his purse back.”

I turned to Royce in confusion, “What? You mean him.” I pointed the the wretched young man, a trickle of blood running down his sleeve, and struggling in Royce’s grasp. “He stole her money. He should give it back to her.”

Royce answered me patiently, “No, she stole your purse. Not that there is much in it.” Royce glared at the woman, his tone menacing, “Give it back, now.” Royce was the most intimidating person I’d ever met. I’d yet to see a person refuse when he talked like that.

The girl made a miraculous recovery, sprang up from the ground, and answered quickly, “Please don’t hurt us.” She begged, “By Marabor’s Blessed Beard, we’re just trying to scrape something up.” She pulled my thin purse out from under her skirts. 

Although this pretty girl had just tried to fleece me, (and she would have if not for Royce’s insight and quick action) I felt bad for her and her partner. “That’s alright. You just have to pick your targets better. Royce is one of the best thieves in all Avryn. You can’t pull anything over him.” I smiled at her, introducing myself, “I’m Hadrian.”

I could just picture Royce’s exasperated look. I knew he couldn’t stand it when I introduced us to strangers. He certainly wouldn’t be happy that I was being friendly with people who’d just tried to rob us.

The young woman smiled back, “I’m Lucy,” she pointed to her accomplice who was twisting free of Royce’s hold. “This is Jo, my sister.”

I blinked in surprise, “Sister?” I took a closer look and saw that although the thin thief wore men's clothes and had short hair, the person had a the face of a woman.

Holding her wounded arm, the boyish-woman, Jo, answered, “Life is a bit easier, dressed as a man. Skirts just get in the way.” She turned to Royce, impressed, “I’ve never seen anyone throw a dagger like that. Amazing.”

Royce put away his dagger and asked sternly, “Who are you working for? This town isn’t big enough to have a proper thieves guild.”

Lucy answered, “Ain’t no thieves guild here. Just Lord Foxcomb; he’s the only real thief in town, the bastard.” Her distaste for the noble was clear. 

Jo peered at Royce, trying to get a better look at him from under his hood, “Really? You’re the best thief in Avryn?”

Royce ignored her question but I answered proudly, “He sure is. Why, Royce could steal the stripes off a tiger.”

Jo’s eyes lit up, “Prove it.” She challenged. 

Royce crossed his arm. From under his hood, he leaned slightly forward, locked eyes with me, his brows arching up, silently asking me why I had provoked this.

I gave him the faintest of grins, one side of my mouth curving up. He got the message. I wanted to see him in action.

Royce threw his hands in the air, “Fine. We need the money anyway. The next man that walks by this ally, I’ll show you the proper way to pick someone’s pocket.”


	2. Scheme: from Royce’s point of view

Hadrian grinned, “Great. Tell us what we should do.” He had the biggest, most foolish grin of any man I’d ever met. I refused to let it drive me crazy.

I explained to the sisters, “You did one thing correct. If you’re going to lift a man’s purse, it helps to have an accomplice, two is even better. But you also need a proper plan.” Hadrian knew this already, and we’d got the system working very well. 

I continued, “The two key parts to any good theft are first, distraction, and second, motivation. Distract the mark while you steal what you’re after then motivate him to not report the theft, or better yet, not even realize it had happened.”

Hadrian had asked for this, not in so many words, but he’d made his desire for us to do a job here and now plain. Hadrian was a big man, a natural fighter, but didn’t have a merciless bone in his body. He would be better as a lookout. I gave instructions, “Hadrian, you’ll be on the roof to signal Jo and Lucy.” 

Of course, I didn’t trust these sisters but figured if it didn’t work out, Hadrian and I didn’t have much to lose. We were so short on funds. I’d been considering something like this anyway and it worked better with three than with just two. Mostly though, Hadrian was testing me and I meant to wipe that smug grin off his face.

I set down my pack and rummaged inside. I found what I was looking for, pulled out two identical red checked handkerchiefs. I handed one to Lucy and told her, “You’ll play the part of the damsel in distress again.“

I turned to Hadrian and held out my hand, “Give me all the coin you’ve got on you.”

He pulled his purse out of his satchel and handed it to me without hesitation but saying “Better be careful with that Royce; it's all I’ve got left.”

I shot back, “Next time, don’t go encouraging strangers to make me prove I’m the best thief in Avryn.” Hadrian was proving once again, he was both biggest fool I knew and the only man I trusted completely.

I added my money to Hadrian’s and handed the combined purse to Jo. I finished explaining the plan and had everyone recite their parts back to me. Once I was satisfied that we were all ready, I took off my cloak, stuffed it in my bag, and took my position down the street, my satchel slung over my shoulder. Jo stood alert around the corner, a few paces back behind Lucy, on the ground in the alley next door. We waited, the strong summer sun high in the sky. I felt sweat trickle down my back.

I waited as a young mother followed by two small children came by and I let them pass. A group of three farmers came along and I also let them pass. Then a grubby man in a broad hat and worn brown doublet, probably a mediocre merchant, came down the street. I knew he’d be our target. I nodded to Hadrian up on the roof and he waved to the others behind the corner. I crossed the street to walk in front just of the target in the broad hat.

As expected, I heard the familiar cry of “Help! Help! He took my money!” Jo sprinted out from the alley.

This time, instead of throwing Alverstone, I threw my bag at Jo. “Stop!” I yelled. I caught the would-be thief in the gut and apparently making Jo stumble. 

As the thin thief scrambled up, dozens of copper coins spilled out all, over the ground. Jo glanced back once at Lucy on the ground, me, and the target, before sprinting away.

Feigning concern, I knelt down next to Lucy. “Are you alright Miss?”

Lucy played her part well, “My leg, it hurts bad.” She cringed and pitifully exclaimed, “You’ve got to help me!”

The mark, Grubby Broad Hat, began picking up the coins that were strewn across the dirt alley. As I’d hoped, the man’s greed was kicking in.

Lucy pleaded, “That’s the money I brought for butcher Yardley. My pa said I had to bring it to him today to pay our debt. Otherwise Yardley won’t sell us no more meat.” She gasped again in pain and gripped her leg, “Please, I got to take it to him today.”

I cautioned, “Don’t you move Miss. It looks leg your leg’s been hurt bad.” I turned to Grubby Broad Hat who had collected all the coins in his two hands. “The thief get away?” I asked him.

The target answered, “Looks that way.” He didn’t take his eyes off the pile of dull coins in his hands.

I volunteered, “I’ve got to take her to a doctor. I think her leg is broken.”

Lucy protested, “No, the money’s got to be delivered to the butcher. He closes soon and we have to pay it today!” Her face dropped in despair, she shook her head dramatically, then her head shot up, her eyes bright with an idea. “Would you take the money to the butcher for me sir? Tell him it’s from the Forrester family, out by the North Glen. That’s 25 copper. Would you please?”

I could see the target pondering the idea. I could almost see the laziness warring with guilt inside him until the greed surfaced and came out on top. A smile crossed his face. “Of course, I can take the money to him. Be happy to help.” So far the plan was working perfectly.

Lucy beamed, “Oh thank you sir!” then she grabbed her leg again in mock pain.

Grubby Broad Hat looked down at the coins almost overflowing his hands and frowned. 

I volunteered, “You should put those coins somewhere safe. No telling if that thief is still around.”

The man licked his lips, stumped. I waited for the man to come up with the idea on his own. It was always better if the mark thought the next step on his own, rather than one of us suggesting it.

“Here hold this a minute will ya?” He dropped the handfuls of coins into my cupped hands. He reached into his coat and pulled out his own purse, which was I glad to see was already rather full.

I dropped some of the coins into his waiting purse, but stopped short. “It won’t all fit.” I pronounced. I put a puzzled expression on my face for a minute and then turned to Lucy, “Have you got a handkerchief Miss?”

Taking her cue, Lucy pulled the red checkered cloth out from a pocket in her skirt. I dropped the coins from my hands into the handkerchief then plucked the man’s purse out of his hands and wrapped everything up in the red cloth. I started to hand the bundle of money, his and ours, back to him, but stopped.

I gave the man a serious look, “If you’re going to be carrying this money around and the thief is still out there, you’d best tuck it down here.” I demonstrated by stuffing the bundle of money under my belt, inside my pants, and patted it gently between my crotch. “No thief will go grabbing at you there. Best place to keep your valuables.” I smiled at him and winked. I hated winking, but it usually did the trick.

As expected, he chuckled and nodded in understanding. I reached down, pulled a red checkered cloth bundle out from under my belt and handed it back to him. He mimicked me by putting the handkerchief bundle inside his own trousers and patting it gently. “Safe and sound.” He said and smiled.

Lucy reminded us that she was still lying on the ground in agony by crying out in pain. I rushed to her side, “I need to get her to a doctor.”

Lucy looked gratefully at the grubby man, “Marabor bless you good sir. And remember to tell the butcher the 25 copper is from the Forrester family.”

Not wasting a minute, our target turned and strode out of the alley. Without a backwards glance he called out, “Not to worry, not to worry.”


	3. Fleeting Success: from Royce’s point of view

The mark walked away, the fake purse stuffed down his pants they way I had demonstrated. As, I had expected, he was going the opposite direction of the butcher shop. Once he was well out of view, we regrouped at the sisters’ home, a shack down the road, behind the blacksmith’s shop. 

I pulled the true purse in a red checkered cloth out from under by belt and emptied it onto the top of a table. Our dozens of copper coin spilled out, but quite a few flashes of gold peaked through all the copper. The mark had carried a lot more than I’d expected.

Jo exclaimed, “Marabor’s Balls! Fourteen gold tenets!”

Lucy was similarly excited, “I’ve never seen so much money in one place!”

I too was pleasantly surprised at the amount, but kept my face neutral, “Half for you and half for us.” I divided the money between us, satisfied with our good fortune. 

Then I caught the look on Hadrian’s face. He was not pleased. “That’s too much money for a regular person. What if that was man’s life savings?” I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes.

Lucy said firmly, “Then he should have been more carefully with it.” She certainly didn’t feel any regret.

Jo suggested, “Maybe he stole it from someone else.” She also was unconcerned with the victim’s plight.

I shook my head, ready for an argument, “Hadrian, don’t feel bad about him. He was more than happy to walk off with the poor Forrester girl’s money, remember? He did not go to the butcher’s to pay her debt, in theory, he stole from us.”

Hadrian sighed, “I suppose you’re right.” I could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“Time to go,” I said.

Lucy, still a bit dazzled by the fortune they’d received, finally caught what I said. She said startled, “Wait. Don’t go yet. Why don’t you stay for dinner? We could fix you up a real nice supper.”

Jo agreed, “What’s your rush? Maybe we could pull another job together?” The prospect of more successful jobs was bright in her eyes. “And you must teach me how you throw a dagger!”

Hadrian answered, “Sorry ladies. It’s been a pleasure and we appreciate your offer of a meal, but Glamrendor calls.” I was glad he’d followed my lead and didn’t accept their hospitality.

“At least take some food for the road.” Lucy handed us a loaf of bread and couple apples from a sack in the corner.

Hadrian and I left the sisters and walked out of town. The afternoon gradually turned blessedly cool. For a change, Hadrian was quiet, probably mulling over the fallout Grubby Broad Hat was going to deal with for losing so much money. After all the houses thinned out and a more wooded landscape took over, I found us a spot for us to spend the night just off the road. I began to set up the camp. The summer days were still long and there was still a few hours before sunset so Hadrian took out his swords to practice.

I always enjoyed watching Hadrian do his fighting drills. It was ritual he performed most days, given the time. He always started with the same warm-up routine, a series of standard movements, followed by punching and kicking an invisible foe. Then he picked up one blade or two, and practiced attacking and blocking. He knew quite a variety of impressive maneuvers. I never tired of watching his graceful pivots, his powerful lunges and his intense focus. Hadrian was the best fighter I’d ever met and watching him practice with his swords was amazing, and arousing. 

After he dropped his last fighting stance, he closed his eyes and stood still for a few minutes. Sometimes he stayed still like this for a long time, poised and alert, but just breathing. Finally he began putting his swords away, “I’m glad the girls gave us some food.” He declared, “I’m starving.”

I looked hard at him. From the moment I’d first laid eyes on Hadrian, I’d wanted him. He’d been walking down the streets of Vernes, three swords strapped to his back, with a mesmerizing gait. The way his ass rose and fell, his broad shoulders dipped rhythmically with each step, it was as if he’d cast a spell on me. At the time, I’d never imagined I would ever come to trust anyone enough to take as a lover, let alone this charming, optimistic, beautiful man. We were so different. It still astounded me that we’d come to be partners, but there was no doubt we were good together.

Hadrian caught my look and knew precisely what I was thinking. He said, “I guess dinner can wait a while.” He leaned down and kissed me. I hooked my thumbs under his belt, stroked his hip bones, and then moved my hands around to cup his ass through his leather britches. We pressed together, moving back and forth, kissing, our bodies incredibly in tune with each other. It felt so good.

Then I froze and my erection melted away.

Hadrian pulled away, “What is it?” he asked catching his breath.

“I hear something.” Someone was calling our names. “Wait here.”

I carefully moved through the woods, approaching the voice calling that was out, “Royce? Hadrian?” It was Jo and she was upset. I could also hear the sound of five armed men walking behind her. 

I quickly and quietly returned to Hadrian. He was standing at attention, his weapons held ready. I whispered, “Looks like the sisters got caught. We need to leave.” Luckily we hadn’t unpacked yet.

Hadrian cocked his head, he heard the woman calling our names. “That sounds like Jo. She must be in trouble. We can’t just leave. We’ve got to help her.”

Damn. Not this again. I tried to make my voice stern, ”No we don’t need to help anyone.” Why did he have to be like this, so upstanding, so .... frustrating.

Hadrian said stubbornly, “Yes we do. We got her in trouble and we’ll get her out of it.” But he didn’t make a move. He was waiting for me to agree.

Jo and the men were moving away, her voice trailing off. “Fine.” I answered tersely.

We moved through the trees, Hadrian following just behind me. I winced as he stepped on some twigs announcing our location to the group head. Jo called out, “Royce? Hadrian? Is that you?” The light was fading and the sun sank below the trees.

I looked at Hadrian, nodded and he darted forward. He knew exactly what I was planning. I took one of the men in the kidney before he even realized he was being attacked. The other three rushed at Hadrian, but he easily dodged their charge, slicing one in the leg as he passed. As Hadrian blocked and thrust with his two swords, I came around from the side and slit the throat of the injured man who’d fallen. I turned to see the last two enemies on the ground, moaning in pain. I slit their throats then found a patch of grass to wipe their blood off of Alverstone. The attackers were all dead.

“Why’d you do that?” Hadrian asked angrily catching his breath.

“It’s not as good as proper cleaning, but always wipe Alverstone off.” I answered.

“Not that. Those men were on the ground, defeated. Why did you kill them?” Hadrian’s disapproval was plain.

“You’re the one who wanted to fight them.” I countered.

“You don’t always need to kill everyone we fight.” He argued. Then he looked at the dead men. Although he hadn’t gotten a scratch in the encounter, pain showed in his face.

Then Jo spoke up frantically, “He took Lucy and my other sister, Betsy, Lord Foxcomb that is.” She was speaking fast, “We stole Lord Foxcomb’s tithe to the Nyphron Church! Deacon Hibbard went crazy. The sheriff said if I didn’t get the money back, he’d kill them.”

Hadrian and I stared at each other, our expressions determined. I knew he felt bad. He was angry at me, and angry at himself, for the deaths of the sheriff’s men. He wasn’t stupid enough to want to give the money back, but he was going to ask to rescue the girls and not kill anyone. 

I tried to reason with him, “You can’t have it both ways. If I’d let the sheriff’s men live, all the sisters would have been killed. At least this way Jo can get away alive.”

Hadrian said carefully, “We have to rescue the others and not kill anyone else.” 

How could he be so blind? It was so infuriating. I kept my face stern and said nothing. I prayed he would accept the realities of the situation and my judgement.

Jo said, “Please, you’re the best thief in Avryn. If anyone can do it, you can.”

I shot her a cold look, “I never said I was the best thief in Avryn, Hadrian did. Beside, just because I’m a good thief doesn’t mean I can perform miracles. Next you’ll be expecting me to be the Heir of Novron and call on Marabor to magically release them from prison.” My tone was sarcastic. I needed the fools to understand.

I turned to look at Hadrian, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. He was disappointed, looking at the ground. Then his shoulders slumped. He kicked a rock hard and it skittered off into the woods. I could see he was pushing his anger down inside, but the pain was still simmering. “I need a drink.” He said, resigned.

Something broke inside me. As much as he drove me crazy and so much of what he did was irrational, Hadrian was still my partner.

“I have an idea.” I said.


	4. Infiltration: from Hadrian points of view

We returned to the spot Royce had picked as our campsite. It was full night now. I was getting tired from the long day and my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten since morning. I pulled out the food Lucy had given me, and ate as I listened to Royce explain his plan.

Royce said, “Again, we’ll use distraction and motivation. But this time our roles will be more elaborate and I’ll need Jo to practice before the final act.” Perhaps it was the food in my stomach or that Royce had agreed to help the girls, but I was starting to feel better.

I worked to push the last of the familiar pain away. I’d almost forgotten the gut-wrenching hurt that washed over me after killing someone. Just because Royce did the actual slaying, didn’t make me feel any better. Even when they deserved it, even when they attacked first, even when I was so good at it, I hated killing. It was just part of who I was.

Royce turned to me, “Hadrian, you’ll need to get a job with the sheriff. No one in town has seen you. It shouldn’t be a problem for you to get a position with the local authorities now that they are down four men. Get in their confidence and learn where they are keeping the prisoners.” He added, “Oh, and don’t use your real name, okay?”

Then he said to Jo, “I’ll give you a message to take to the sheriff. We’ve got to turn suspicion away from you and your sisters.”

Jo balked, “What? You want me to go back? To the Sheriff!? You might as well just cut my throat here and now.”

Royce was unmoved, “By returning, you’ll prove you are siding with the authorities against Hadrian and I. You’ll have to act afraid of us and convince them that we tricked or forced you into helping us in the first place. That’s the only way, if you want to see your sisters free again.” He took a bite of bread and continued, “And you’ll have to learn how to throw a dagger, very, very, accurately.”

Royce gave our new accomplice instructions on what to say. “You’ve got to get back to the Sheriff tonight. Tell him Hadrian and I killed the others but let you go free with a message because you will be a prophet. You must say I am a religious fanatic, crazy in fact, calling myself the Heir of Novron. Say that I’m spouting nonsense about having visions. I was told by Marabor I must cleanse the world of the corrupt church and any who support it, starting right here in Bramhurst. Warn them that I mean to strike the church next.”

I looked at Royce skeptically but said nothing.

He explained, “I’ll draw their attention by ransacking some churches. I’ll meet with Jo from time to time, as my prophet, issuing crazy divine proclamations. You must bargain with the sheriff and tell them you will only cooperate with them if they let your sisters go free. Once you get good enough with the dagger, we can finish the charade.”

He looked at me coldly, “Alright Hadrian?” He was angry. He didn’t like sticking his neck out for strangers. He didn’t see that it was the right thing to do. This was what Arcadius had meant, that I’d have to be a good influence on him.

“Sure,” I answered not letting his scowl get to me, “You’re the man with the plan.”

After Jo left, I spread out my pitch coated canvas and laid down to sleep. I heard Royce settle into his cloak nearby, but not close enough to touch. I knew he couldn’t stay angry with me for long. I might not see him for a few days with this new job of ours, but if Royce wanted to sleep by himself, so be it.

In the morning, I packed my things and said goodbye to Royce, “I guess I won’t see you for a while. Be careful.” My voice was tight. 

Royce nodded, “You too.” I could tell he was still frustrated. Yesterday, he had argued that I wanted conflicting things. Yet now, as I read his face and his body language, I saw he was conflicted. He was struggling with his old ways, used to doing jobs on his own terms. This new way, compromising and adapting to having me as a partner, was not easy for him.

It took me most of the morning just to locate the sheriff. As they were down a few men and I only had to prove decent fighting skills, I easily managed to get a job from old Sheriff Ed. I was assigned a spot in the barracks at the keep and enjoyed my first hot, filling meal in over a week. I learned from the other men-at-arms that Lord Foxcomb ran the town and the surrounding lands. Also, Jo had delivered her message and had been sufficiently convincing. The men in the mess hall couldn’t stop talking about the religious fanatic that had forced the girls to steal for him. 

Over the next few days I was able to eat my fill of barrack food, wash, and shave. I also got acquainted with the layout of the keep and the people who worked there. There were a couple other new recruits who I offered to spar with. Soon I was giving combat lessons to most of the sheriff's men while the rest of the men-at-arms watched. In the evening, we drank a local cider, which wasn’t half bad, and shared wild stories about the daring criminal who was menacing the district. 

Royce’s exploits were all anyone could talk about. All were bloodless, focused on church properties, and some were downright amusing. It make me proud to think of Royce, playing his part so well. He was always so clever and quick. As the sheriff’s men had no success stopping the False Heir, as he was being called, Deacon Hibbard had become more and more desperate. Lord Foxcomb had agreed to send a messenger to Ghent to call for a Seret knight. We’d received instructions from Sheriff Ed to show proper respect for the knight once he arrived and obey any and all of his orders. I’d half hoped Royce might show up at the keep, perhaps in the middle of the night, silently appearing by my bed while everyone slept, but he never did.

By the time the Seret knight arrived, rumors about the False Heir’s activities were being tossed about, like a sport. The morning we were to meet the knight, the men-at-arms were lined up in the yard, but the minutes dragged on. Restless, some of the men starting talking. Apparently Royce had been busy the night before, looting churches and leaving religious relics all over the countryside. 

“Did you hear Haddy?” One of the men slapped me on the shoulder good-naturedly, “Farmer Roger found holy texts strewn all over his apple orchard. The pages were stuck to the branches in clumps, like leaves!”

A guard behind us piped up, trying to top him, “Mr Hoggatt said he picked up a smashed painting of Marabor and Novron from his pigs’ slop trough last night. The pigs had eaten most of the canvas and even some of the frame.” 

A maid standing at the well added, “Cook said that his brother found priestly robes ripped to shreds and tied into bows along their fence.” 

From the amused gossip that swirled non-stop, I couldn’t help but imagine Royce as he caused all this havoc. He was doing quite well with the distraction part of the plan. I could guess that a significant amount of coin had been taken too. 

Presently, the doors of the keep opened and Lord Foxcomb emerged followed by three other men. I recognized Old Sheriff Ed, my new employer, and the tired priest, Deacon Hibbard. I guessed the tall man wearing black armor a with red symbol of a broken crown was the Seret Knight. Lord Foxcomb stood erect and announced in rich baritone, “I present Sir Norvale, Seret Knight sent by the Nyphron Church to direct our capture of the criminal known as ‘The False Heir.’ It is the utmost priority that this dangerous heretic be caught and brought justice. You are ordered to obey his every command.” He nodded to the knight.

Sir Norvale stepped forward, scanning the assembled men-at-arms for a moment. His voice was fierce and his words cut to the point, “Novron’s name is sacred. Heresy will not be tolerated. You will form squads to patrol the outlying churches under my direct supervision. I expect all of you to take this threat seriously.” The knight looked to Lord Foxcomb and nodded slowly, prompting him.

Lord Foxcomb took a deep breath, “Until the criminal is apprehended or killed, your pay will be suspended.” A collective gasp escaped the men. Small protests of “What?” and “No pay!” were muttered.

Sir Norvale pulled out his sword and held it up high. Silence fell over the yard. The knight's tone was as sharp as his blade, “Any man who no longer wishes to serve his Lord and Church may leave now, but know this - there will be no mercy for heretics or those who are in league with them.” No one dared move.

Foxcomb added, his voice wavering, “Anyone with information leading to the capture of the False Heir will be rewarded. We must all do what we can to help the Church.” Then we were dismissed.

I’d seen leaders use this tactic before and it never worked. Punishing people for someone else’s failure was short sighted and only bred resentment. At first, the men would be obedient and their fear of the power of the Nyphron church would keep them in line. Eventually though, defiance would crop up. I only hoped our scheme would be done long before then.

Under the knight’s orders, Lord Foxcomb continued to keep the sisters, Lucy and Betsy, in a locked room in the cellar of the keep. I learned that the same four guards took turns watching them, each taking a six hour shift. I made a point of chatting with each of them and being friendly during meals, but otherwise not interfering in their work. I saw Jo, still dressed as a man, come and go from the keep. Apparently, she was still bringing messages from Royce. I heard something about rants and raves about his visions of divinity and needing to cleanse the world to start anew. I figured that soon enough Royce would make an offer, or perhaps threaten something, to get Lord Foxcomb to release the prisoners. 

Days passed. Although the roof over my head and three square meals a day were nice, I had to admit I missed being with Royce. I missed his touch and they way he anticipated mine. As the days passed, I was more bothered by the way we’d parted. It felt like we’d had some sort of power struggle, with both of us losing. I knew Royce was jaded and cold-hearted, but he was also realistic. He always made sense and thought everything through, even if he was cutthroat. I also knew I could trust him and he trusted me, which was a rare and precious thing.

The moral in the barracks got pretty poor since our pay had been stopped. After the fourth day of no pay, at end of the day, when we were gathered together, an argument broke out. Some of the men wanted to quit but others weren’t willing to oppose their ruler and the church. 

One of the sheriff’s men, a younger recruit, shouted, “If we all band together, and refuse to work unless they pay us, they’ll have to agree.”

An older guard shook his head, “I won’t risk my job. I have a family who depends on me.”

I could tell it was going to come to blows and I called out, “Enough!” I stood up straight and all eyes turned to me. “You’re both right.”

I turned to the young rebellious man, “I hear what you’re saying. If we are to make demands we all have to be in it together. But we’re not all in agreement, so that won’t work.”

Then I turned to the older man, “I know you won’t risk your position, but you must realize we can’t go on working with no pay. That won’t help your family either.”

Dozens of men looked to me, expectantly. “What we need to do is find the False Heir, as soon as possible.” I could tell this wasn’t enough to sway everyone. “In the meantime, I’ll talk to Deacon Hibbard to see if he can negotiate for us. He may be able to convince the Seret that we’re doing the church’s work and should be compensated properly.” This seemed to help and their eyes softened. I continued encouragingly, “We’re a team right? We’re in this together.”

The men nodded in agreement and went back to their bunks, the mutiny calmed for the moment. 

The Seret kept us working a brutal schedule, but after a week, the sheriff's men had nothing to show for it. I had talked to Deacon Hibbard about the discontent in the barracks. He thanked me for coming to him and said he would do what he could to get our pay back. I doubted he could do anything to help, but hoped it would buy enough time for our scheme to finish. Royce still hadn’t contacted me and I was getting impatient to move on. 

I was sparring with a couple men-at-arms in the yard in the late afternoon, mostly letting them think they were doing well, when we heard shouting at the gate.

Lord Foxcomb headed a small parade of armed men, proud and triumphant. Someone called out, “They’ve got him! The False Heir.” Another exclaimed, “Marabor’s beard, they actually captured the crazy bastard.” 

People started to gather for a glimpse of the heretic. I pushed to the front crowd and was amazed to see Royce, bound, face down, and slung over a horse.

Foxcomb announced, “Thanks to some assistance from a loyal citizen, this lunatic will trouble our land no longer. The False Heir will be tried and executed for his crimes tomorrow.” The small crowd of servants and guards who had assembled in the courtyard cheered.

Royce spat and raved, “Infidels! All of you! Marabor will punish everyone here and cleanse this land of your impurity.” He clearly was still playing his part, but to what end? I needed to be careful.

Troubled and unsure what was my role now, I approached Old Sheriff Ed. “What happened? I mean, how’d you catch him?” 

I watched cautiously, my fists clenched at my sides, as the guards dragged Royce off the horse. They kicked him a few times for good measure, then hauled him into the keep. My heart hammered in my chest, but I didn’t dare move to follow, not yet.

Old Ed smiled, “It was the mannish whore, the one who calls herself Jo. Word is, she’d done gotten fed up being this lunatic’s messenger. She said she’d betray him, lure him to a trap, if we’d release her sisters. She even made Lord Foxcomb write it down and put his seal to it so he wouldn’t take it back later. Smart little bitch.” The sheriff shrugged, “What’s important is that the filthy dog has been captured. After he’s hung, the Seret will head back to Ghent and this province can get back to normal.”

I didn’t know what Royce had planned at this point, but I would do whatever it took to get him out safely.


	5. Capture: from Royce’s point of view

With my face down, I hadn’t been able to look for Hadrian as the guards had dragged me, kicking and screaming, to the windowless room in the cellar of the keep. It was probably for the best. I needed Hadrian to keep playing his role as a compliant and trusted member of the sheriff’s men. So far, he’d played his role well. 

I had spied on him from the roof of the keep many times. He had integrated into the sheriff’s squad beautifully. After months working together, I was still amazed at how naturally Hadrian made friends. He had an uncanny way of putting others at ease. It made no sense to me. Would I ever stop being surprised at how different we were? Watching him spar with the other guards, seeing the way the men smiled and played around with him, wanting to slip down and be near him, it was all hard to bear. We hadn’t been apart this long before and it was almost physically draining. Like we were connected by an invisible cord that was tugging, gently, at me all the time.

I dismissed the sentiment. Soon, this charade would be over. Hadrian and I would on the road again tomorrow. I had ensured that the sisters would do their part. I had to trust that Hadrian would know what to do when the time came.

I took stock of my situation. As I had anticipated, the guards had stripped me of my weapons, boots and most of my clothing. I wore only a wool shirt and breeches. Before being taken captive, I had safely stowed Alverstone and the bulk of the money I’d acquired. My wrists chafed under the rusty shackles and my legs were starting to cramp from being chained to an exposed board. One guard stood outside the locked door. It smelled of mold and water dripped from somewhere. There was no light source, but that didn’t matter, I could see everything. 

Given time, I could have easily worked my feet out the chains. Once I could move about, it would be simple to overwhelm the guard. The easiest way would be to garotte him with the shackles, quick and quiet. It wouldn’t be too challenging to escape the keep, especially under the cover of darkness. The stone walls were easy to scale and no one ever watched the roof. But that was not the plan.

Also, I had a feeling that Hadrian would come and try to rescue me. I knew it the same way I knew Hadrian couldn’t resist tying ridiculous knots in his saddle strings. I knew it just as I knew he would always cringe at the taste of wine, call it spoilt grape juice, preferring ale or beer. I knew it like I knew he would throw his arms around me and hold me tight, the moment he got me alone. However, I also knew that Hadrian would not be able to pull off a stealthy escape plan. Without coordinating our efforts, he very likely would bungle what I had planned.

I resigned myself into waiting for Hadrian.

It was late evening, about two hours after the watch had changed. Not long ago, the guard posted at the door had begun making awkward noises and grunting every few minutes. Then, I heard Hadrian’s familiar, friendly voice outside the door. “Hey Bill, you don’t look so good.”

“By Mar, I’ve got to get to the privy. My bowels are in knots.” The man answered.

Hadrian answered amiably, “Why don’t I take your watch for a few minutes? I can cover for you. Go take care of your business.” I guessed he must have put something in the guard’s food or drink.

“Thanks Haddy. You’re a real friend.” Footsteps moved quickly down the hallway.

I heard a jangle of keys. One key was tried, then the next, they a third key. Finally, the handle turned and lantern light spilled in. Hadrian’s large familiar form came through the door. He left the door open and knelt down beside me. “Royce,” the worry in his voice was raw and honest, “Are you hurt? Can you walk?”

I answered, “I’ve been worse.” I couldn’t help but feel some relief wash over me, having him near.

Predictably, Hadrian wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my neck. He held me for a moment, took a deep breath, and pulled back. “Let’s get you out of here buddy.” He smelled good, like leather, and ale, and sweat.

I looked him in the eye, “No, not now. I have a plan.” I tried to sound confident, authoritative. I needed him to listen and not act rashly.

Hadrian looked pained, “Fighting our way out is a plan. Besides, I can’t just leave you here pal.” I knew it; I knew he’d want to free me.

I couldn’t let him get us in worse trouble than we already were. I was stern, “You must leave me here. Look, you’re doing great. You got the guard out of the way and snagged the keys, but you need to go back to your duties. Okay? Tomorrow, I’m relying on you to get me away safely.” I wanted to reach out and touch him, but my hands were bound and needed to stay that way.

Hadrian said, baffled, “Tomorrow? But you’re going to be executed tomorrow!”

I agreed, “Yes, exactly. I’m counting on it. When they bring me out to the yard …” I stopped when I heard footsteps approaching.

Hadrian read the look on my face and understood even though he couldn’t hear the guard returning yet.

I hissed “Punch me!” 

Hadrian hesitated only a second, nodded and punch me in the mouth. The pain shot through my jaw, radiating into the side of my face, nose and eye. I felt blood fill my mouth and I spat at Hadrian. 

Loudly I cried out, “Get off me you filthy pig! Can’t a man pray?” I kept shouting “Marabor will hear me and smite all of you!” I laughed in the best imitation of insanity I could muster.

An older man appeared at the door and yanked Hadrian up. He demanded, “What is going on in here? Why you in here with the prisoner?”

Hadrian mumbled, “Sheriff Ed, I , aah …” Inwardly, I sighed. We’d have to work on his improvisation skills.

I jumped in, “This lout didn’t appreciate my sanctified prayers. Said he’d fix my face so I couldn’t talk anymore.” I gathered another mouthful of blood and spat it at the sheriff for emphasis.  
The sheriff sneered and punched me in gut. Although he lacked Hadrian’s power, it still knocked the wind out of me. 

“Listen you dog,” The sheriff snarled, “You’re lucky Lord Foxcomb has only decided to hang you. The Seret wanted you to be drawn and quartered for the blasphemy you’ve been spouting. One more word from you and you’re dead. I’ll be more than happy to be the one to do it.” I remained crumpled on the ground, the pain in my body receding.

Hadrian and the sheriff left. The door was locked. I heard him warn Hadrian, “I know how you feel, Haddy, but that man’s nothing but a demon. You shouldn’t gone in there. Understand?” he warned.

Hadrian must have nodded or given some expression that was convincingly enough. 

The sheriff said, “Go get Bill and tell him to get his ass back to his post. I’ll stay here.”

I heard Hadrian walk away. I hoped that I’d gotten through to him, that my partner wouldn’t do anything rash. I hadn’t gotten a chance to explain everything to him, but it would be enough. It had to be enough.


	6. Reunion : from Hadrian’s point of view

I could barely sleep and rose early the next morning. Leaving Royce imprisoned after seeing him, touching him, especially after being apart so long, was maddening. I had to trust he knew what he was doing. 

Royce’s trial was set for an hour after dawn and the crowd would soon be gathering to watch him hang. I dressed carefully, planning for a quick escape. In the courtyard the bright sun was just rising over the wall of the keep. I positioned myself strategically between the gallows and the main gate, knowing this would be the best spot to get to Royce. I saw the two sisters, Lucy and Jo, arrive from across the yard. Jo looked directly at me and I thought I saw her wink, although she kept her face neutral. They were up to something, but what?

Presently, the front doors of the keep opened and a pair of guards came out. Sheriff Ed thrust Royce forward, his hands bound securely, followed by Lord Foxcomb and the Seret knight, Sir Norvale. 

Looking pleased, Foxcomb announced, “This man has been found guilty of theft, murder, destruction of property, conspiracy, and heresy. I sentence him to execution and he shall be hanged by the neck until dead.” Lord Foxcomb turned to the sheriff and nodded for him to proceed.

I clenched my fists. I had to help Royce, but there were so many men-at-arms, plus the Seret. If only he’d let me help him escape last night! The sheriff brought Royce to the steps of the gallows. I couldn’t wait, I took one step forward.

Then Lucy rushed up, slammed into Royce, and slapped him hard across the face. She pulled on his shirt, looking him straight in the eyes and glared at him in anger. “I wish they could hang you a thousand times. Marabor will see you to rot for the way you’ve ruined me and my sisters!” 

One of the guards pulled the woman away, but she struggled and continued to curse Royce. Then, much slower than he usually moved, he kicked Lucy to the ground. She screamed; it was loud and dramatic, drawing all eyes to her.

I watched Royce as he carefully, deliberately took a step towards Lucy. The sheriff reached out to grab him, when a dagger flew through the air towards Royce. He reach up, as if to block the blade with his hand, but it landed in his chest, and blood splattered everywhere. Royce swayed on his feet, blood soaked into his shirt, then he dropped to the ground.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

Several people pointed at Jo, “That guy, over there, he did it. He threw the dagger.”

Jo shouted, “That’s right, I killed him. I had to stop him from hurting my sister. He more than deserved it.”

Suddenly, without thinking, I raced to Royce’s side and knelt next to him. Blood stained his shirt and the dagger stuck out of his chest, his hand still clasping the hilt. Panic threatened to overwhelm me, when Royce popped one eye open, saw it was me, the shut it again. I realized Royce was still breathing. His breathing was shallow and faint, but he was definitely alive.

The it hit me. I knew what I was supposed to do.

I cried out, “He’s dead!” Keeping my voice loud enough to be heard by the crowd, I added fervently, “Marabor must have guided her hand to have landed that dagger straight in his heart.”

The people erupted into cheers and exclamations of wonder. 

Then I slung Royce’s limp body over my shoulder and stood. I turned to Lord Foxcomb, “Where do you want the body my Lord? Was he to be buried or burned?”

Baffled by this turn of events, Foxcomb simply stared. The Seret knight answered me absently, “Burned. There shall be no burial for this heretic.” He kept his eyes fixed on Jo, who was being patted on the back and congratulated,

Deacon Hibbard stammered, “We prepared a pyre in the back. I’ll show you.”

“Yes, Sir,” I answered and followed the priest around the back of the keep. I laid Royce down on the ground next to the pile of wood. Some townsfolk wandered over, but I called out, “Nothing to see here. Back to your business, now!”

Deacon Hibbard was still watching. I knew had to get rid of him and I didn’t want to have to hurt him. I thought back to what Royce had said, ‘distract and motivate.’

I took my time looking at the arrangement of pitch soaked wood and the nearby wooden wall of the keep. I scowled, crossed my arms over my chest and let out a loud ‘harrumph’ sound.

The priest caught my displeasure and asked, “What’s wrong?”

I answered, all concern “This isn’t a safe way to set up a big fire. I don’t like how it is placed and we should have something to put it out, in case the wind picks up and sparks fly about.” The weather was calm and there was absolutely no wind.

The deacon volunteered, “Shall I fetch some water?”

I answered, “Sand would be better. Water will only spread a pitch fueled fire.” I kept my face innocent, “If you go and find a bucket of sand, I’ll start the fire.”

Thankfully, the priest agreed. With the deacon out of the way, it was easy to fake the cremation. I struck a spark to the pyre and whispered to Royce, “So how’d you do it?”

He lay still on the ground where I’d placed him, keeping his face neutral and eyes shut but answered, “Lucy placed a bladder of pig’s blood under my shirt when she grabbed me. Then Jo threw the hilt of a dagger at me, which I caught, and used to burst the bag of blood. We had to practice a lot to get the angle just right.” 

The fire was roaring now and the coast was still clear, I said, “Time to come back to life I think.”

Royce popped up, looked around, and effortlessly climbed onto the roof. He scaled the wall so efficiently and gracefully, I couldn’t help but admire him. By Mar, the small man was talented. Once on the roof, he stripped naked and I admired him a bit more. He threw down his clothes, which I caught and added to the pyre. I turned in time to watch his bare backside disappear over the rooftop. By the time the priest came back, the fire was so bright and high, you couldn’t even make if there was a body anymore or not.

The next day I resigned from Lord Foxcomb’s service. The sheriff tried to convince me to stay, but I refused saying I didn’t like that my pay might be stripped away at the Lord’s whim. I wanted to say goodbye to Lucy and Jo, but thought it better not to arouse suspicions. I left town and started down the road to Glamrendor. I knew Royce would find me.

As the sun began to set, I made camp in a clearing just off the road. Sure enough, just as I’d finished cooking some stew, Royce stepped out of the trees in his familiar black cloak and hood.

My heart skipped a beat and I couldn’t help but smile, wide and true, “It looks like you got your clothes back. And I was looking forward to watching you run around naked a bit longer.” I teased.

Royce stepped closer and pulled back his hood, “I thought you might like that ... display.” The merest hint of smile flitted across his face.

Suddenly, I remembered him falling to the ground, blood soaking his chest and my voice became tight, “If you ever pretend to be dead again, without warning me first, I’ll kill you.” I had intended it to be a joke, but it came out strained and my voice broke.

Royce crossed the distance to stand in front of me. He reached out to put a hand at the back of my neck and pulled gently. He put the other hand around my waist and drew me into his arms, close and tight. I buried my face in his shoulder and breathed.


End file.
